


Based on Actual Events

by owlmoose



Series: Pieces of Thedas [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Comment Fic, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric finds a cure for writer's block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Based on Actual Events

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the weekly prompt fest on the LiveJournal Dragon Age community. Prompt: "Writer's Block"

_And so the Champion strode into the warehouse, kicking the door into splinters. "Ready to meet the Maker?" she growled. "Too bad, 'cause you're getting me instead!"_

Varric shook his head and drew the pen through the words, two dark black lines. "That doesn't sound like her at all." He bit the pen and thought for a moment before dipping the nib in the inkwell.

 _And so the Champion kicked the door into splinters, bursting into the warehouse. "You've met your match now, you slaver scum! Just wait 'till I_

"No no no, this is all wrong!" Varric scribbled out the whole paragraph this time; there was not enough ink in the world to obliterate prose this wretched, and he pressed so hard that he tore a hole in the paper. With a noise of disgust, he ripped the page out of the book, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room.

Of course, that just gave him a new blank page to contend with. He stared at it, elbows propped on the table, fingers buried in his hair, for what felt like forever. Finally he sighed, tossed back the rest of his ale, and started again.

 _Hey Hawke,_

 _Word on the street is that a gang of Tevinter slavers just holed up in a Lowtown warehouse. Want to do your good deed for the week? Bring Broody, we'll make a day of it._

Varric signed the note with a flourish, then went down the stairs to hunt down a courier. He always worked best from life, anyway.


End file.
